


In which Chris believes Zach is his personal masseur.

by boldlyshipping



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boldlyshipping/pseuds/boldlyshipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so. I'm a bit of a languages afficionado and I did this thing in this fic that I know should have a cute story and meaning behind but I didn't realise that at the time I wrote it. I put Latin in it. I just think Latin is something that suits them both so perfectly since they are both so noetic and literate and I couldn't resist.<br/>But fear not, I shall make the reading of this easier by describing the vocables used in a brief note:</p>
<p>"Cogito" is first person present perfect for "cogitatio" and it's a verbal form that has the subject and auxiliar intrinsic to it, which would make it translate into "I am thinking".<br/>"Confitendo" means "confessing", from the verb "confiteor" that means a confession with a high level of devotion and secrecy.<br/>"Expone" is the active imperative form of the verb "exponere", which means to explain or to expose.<br/>"Perdite" is an amalgam of "desperately" and "hopelessly", it describes something really intense.<br/>Carry on then.</p>
    </blockquote>





	In which Chris believes Zach is his personal masseur.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. I'm a bit of a languages afficionado and I did this thing in this fic that I know should have a cute story and meaning behind but I didn't realise that at the time I wrote it. I put Latin in it. I just think Latin is something that suits them both so perfectly since they are both so noetic and literate and I couldn't resist.  
> But fear not, I shall make the reading of this easier by describing the vocables used in a brief note:
> 
> "Cogito" is first person present perfect for "cogitatio" and it's a verbal form that has the subject and auxiliar intrinsic to it, which would make it translate into "I am thinking".  
> "Confitendo" means "confessing", from the verb "confiteor" that means a confession with a high level of devotion and secrecy.  
> "Expone" is the active imperative form of the verb "exponere", which means to explain or to expose.  
> "Perdite" is an amalgam of "desperately" and "hopelessly", it describes something really intense.  
> Carry on then.

Chris can get extremely tense at times, and when he does he just likes to find a quiet place, sit by himself and try to relax a bit. At those times, when he gets home at night he usually watches a movie and has a few (too many) glasses of wine. On the night in question he was only having the latter, since he unfortunately had a party to attend to. Not that he didn’t like parties or the guests in this particular one, he was only tired and stressed out and not in the mood to play prepossessing and entertaining Chris. He was, however, being chased around a lot more than usual. Maybe he looked better when indisposed. The fact of the matter is he couldn’t go over more than five minutes alone, there was always someone there, lurking their way into his personal space and at the first chance they get he’s being harassed to no end. These are all people he knows or at least met once or twice, but not people he can stand to be around at the time; and the ones who he could stand and rather were the ones taking him from introspection are apparently not worried about his unusual behavior. Zoe is busy playing host and the rest of his friends from the Trek cast are drunkenly blowing the other guests’ spandrels up in a karaoke that should under no circumstances have been put to use that night. Except for Zach, who said he couldn’t make it because he had dinner plans with Jonathan. 

Eventually he made it to the door that gave way to Zoe’s backyard and, already tripping over his own feet a little, he descended the small flight of stairs and found his way to the dark green park bench that stood beneath a white flowering dogwood in bloom. After sitting down, he swallowed the rest of what was probably his sixth glass of wine that night, if he was still counting right. Holding the glass from the bottom with both hands, he placed his elbows on top of his knees, his feet planted on the ground, and thought. He thought about all that was going on in that moment of his life, about how Jack Ryan’s shooting was taking its toll on him, how the director Kenneth was being really rigorous as to what he wanted to come out of the film and how he would carry on through how many takes were needed until everything was perfectly the way he had it in his own mind. How some days Chris would leave the set at three in the morning and he had to be up and running at seven. He thought about how much sleeping in the trailer wasn’t helping his not-so-young-anymore body and about how he would give anything to just be able to unstring all the tension that hanged thick around him these days. He brought his left hand to his hair and ran his fingers through it and then down the nape of his neck. Resting against the backrest and letting his head fall down towards it, he took a deep breath and felt the alcohol acting on his body, relieving the tension just enough for him to close his eyes and not worry about what was going on at that moment around him, even if there was nobody else there; and he stayed that way for several minutes. 

“What are you doing out here, Christopher?" 

“ _Cogito_.” Chris hadn’t turned around nor opened his eyes to see who the owner of the gently demanding voice was, he didn’t have to. He heard the soft rustling of Converses against grass coming his way and wished he could be alone or at least in a better mood. 

“I see.” 

“What are **you** doing here? I thought you were out with Jonathan.” 

“Dinner ended sooner than expected.” He heard Zachary stop behind the bench and felt him rest his weight with both arms on the backrest, right hand nearly nudging Chris’s left shoulder. 

“Why? Did you guys have a fight?” 

“Not really.” After a second thought Zach moved to stand behind him, his shirt ruffling Chris’ perfectly styled hair, both his hands finding their way to Chris’ shoulders as Chris rested his head on Zach’s stomach. “He broke up with me.” As if Zach knew each and every spot of condensed tension that permeated Chris' trapezium, he mindlessly worked his fingers on the other's back while he thought of what had happened in the restaurant and felt a wave of sadness spread inside him. 

“I’m so sorry, Zach.” Chris held a sympathetic expression and there was a moment of silence. “Did he really, though? If my boyfriend had those hands I would never leave him – **ever** , I tell you.” He said as he pointed to Zach’s hands that were still skillfully melting the knots in his muscles. That earned him a small chuckle from Zachary and a small curve of his own lips for being able to make his friend smile. 

“Thank you, but lest you forget you’re straight, Christopher.” Zach said, the reminiscence of his laughter still echoing in his words. 

“That level of talent gets you near to apotheosis, gender would be the last of my concerns. Actually, there would **be** no concerns.” 

“Umm... _Confitendo_?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” 

A few moments passed by and they stayed that way, silently, the only audible noise being the soft skim of Zachary’s hands against Chris’ shirt. They both had always liked the way everything between them went with ease, how they recurrently agreed about stuff without even having to say a word and how they felt secure in each other’s company, nothing was ever uncomfortable. 

“He said he wanted to break up because he felt I didn’t love him anymore.” He broke the silence with a bitter voice. 

“You’re joking, right?” Chris had an impious tone in his question. Zach and Jonathan had always been the happiest couple he’d ever met and he secretly wished Zach would pick him to be his best man on their wedding. 

“He says I talk about you too much. That I’m in love with **you**.” Zach stated during a mini laughter paroxysm. 

“Are you not?” With fake hurt and umbrage in his tone, Chris finally opened his eyes to look into Zachary’s above him, both having fun at the expense of Jon’s derisive train of thought. 

“Hey, don’t flatter yourself” Zach told him, patting his jaw lightly twice with his right hand and, adding a third pat to his shoulder a bit afterwards, he noded towards the house "come on, let’s get back to the party.”

*****

Chris doesn’t remember leaving the party or getting to his house, much less to his bed, when he wakes up the next day with a pounding head and a bitter taste in his mouth. The sunlight feels like a hundred daggers poking into his eyes. When he turns his head to look at the clock on his bedside table it seems the whole world is turning as well. The clock is marking 12:23pm and his stomach is marking time to throw up. He sits up slowly, knees up and a groan caught between his lips as he rests his head on his arms, which are folded on his knees. Looking around, he tries to make out the details of the previous night and when he gets nothing from his brain he decides to get up, brush his teeth, and have a glass of water. Or twenty. 

He got to his feet and let himself fall back on the bed when his insides started to molest him and his stomach threatened to get off his body through his mouth. He let out a frustrated sigh and brought his hands to rub at his eyes, trying to get his sight less blurred. Where were his glasses anyway? Taking a deep breath, Chris got up and went straight to the bathroom and put both his hands on the sink’s marble, searching for his balance. He took a look at himself in the mirror and thought he didn’t look so bad for someone who had half a night erased from their mind. He picked up his toothbrush and went to work on his breath. After he was done with that, he splashed some water on his face and the back of his neck, and headed back to the bedroom. He got through the bathroom door and spotted a glass of water beside the clock on the bedside table that definitely wasn’t there before. And he definitely didn’t remember sleeping with anybody, but then again the last thing he remembered was being lured into singing “I Want to Break Free” with Anton while the rest of their friends laughed and danced along to their performance. 

He took the water and drank it nonetheless, thankful for whoever had been brave enough to spend the night with him. Glass in hand, he walked out of the bedroom and into the living room, stopping short when he saw a couple of folded blankets and a pillow piled up on the couch. Right, he hadn’t actually slept with anyone then. He looked to his right, over to the kitchen, and found Zach using his clothes and walking around like the kitchen was his own, sun caught in his damp raven hair every time he passed through the chink of light that came out of the window. He opened the oven and it smelled like something Chris couldn’t quite identify and his nose found very pleasant but his stomach disagreed a bit. He walked over quietly and went to get some more water. 

“What happened?” He managed when he got closer so he wouldn’t have to talk louder than it was necessary for Zach to hear it. 

“Good morning to you too, Chris, how are you feeling?” Zachary looked over his shoulder, not at all bothered by his sudden appearance. 

“One who suffers from unpleasant physical effects that follow abuse of alcohol, past tense, eight letters.” 

“Yes. I figured.” Zach grinned at how the man could still be distinguished while being drunk **and** while hungover. 

“Thanks for the water by the way.” He said as he sat down by the white stone counter and rested his chin on his hand, a new glass of water in the other. 

“Sure. I hope you don’t mind I stayed over. You said it was okay last night but I don’t imagine you remember that.” Zach was almost done making coffee and setting plates and cups and cutlery on the counter, two each. 

“You’re right, I don’t.” Chris laughed and immediately regretted that because the throb in his head that had almost subdued came back with full intensity. 

“Jon hasn’t left the apartment yet and I didn’t want to be there with him. I’m so sorry.” 

“Zach, you’re always over at my place and when did I ever stop you? You’re welcome here and you can stay as long as you want, you know that.” 

“Really?” Zachary looked at him with gratefulness and something akin to devotion in his eyes. 

“No, just kidding. What do you think?" There was a small smile playing across his lips and the most soft of looks graced his blue eyes. 

"I don't know, maybe you're just trying to make me feel better." 

"Please don’t make me punch you while I’m hungover.” Chris warned and got a giggle out of Zachary. 

“Okay. Thanks.” When Zach put the dish he'd taken out of the oven on the stand he'd set on the counter, he was hoping Chris couldn’t tell the red that flushed his face was from being flattered by the refuge Chris had so kindly offered him instead of from the warmness of the open oven he had been close to. Even though they were really good friends, these little gestures that made you know people cared about you still made Zach’s chest uneasy. 

Zachary carefully served both their coffees and their food and sat down beside Chris, who was entertained analyzing and trying to guess what was it that Zach had cooked. 

“Leek and cheese quiche.” He answered Chris’ silent question and started to eat his own piece of the breakfast-more-like-lunch he had made. Chris tried it as well and his face irradiated with a mix of compliment and surprise. 

“It tastes amazing.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Did you really go out on a Sunday morning for leek?” Chris had this I-don’t-believe-you expression and he actually had stopped eating and was holding his fork in the air staring at Zach. 

“…Yeah.” 

Chris shook his head incredulously at Zach as if that was the most amazing thing in the whole world. They kept on eating their breakfast – or lunch – and then Chris did the dishes as Zach flipped through channels failing to find something decent for them to watch. Chris needed new DVDs, they had already watched everything he had, most of them more than once. They decided to sit on the couch and go through the previous night, as Chris had insisted he wanted to know everything. Zach was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to know about the tequila Zoe had opened nor about “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”, and even less about the fact that he was trying to get everyone at the party to call him Captain, but he told Chris anyway. They were in a hysterical fit of laughter when Chris remembered the backyard conversation they’d had. 

“You know, you could pay your stay here with another massage on my back.” 

“Sure.” Zach got up and around the couch, reaching Chris’ shoulders. 

“It was a joke, Zach.” Chris protested looking up at Zach, but that was not getting him anywhere. 

“You’re always being nice to me, just shut up and let me do something nice for you in return.” Zach tipped Chris’ head gently back to place with one hand. 

“But you made me breakfast!” Chris insisted on letting his head fall back so he could confront the other man. 

“That was for letting me stay the night. Now, quiet.” Zach grabbed his head with both hands and in one precise motion put Chris back the way he wanted and then he started to use his fingers in that same way as in the night before. Chris melted into his touch and couldn’t find the strength to complain anymore. 

All you could hear for a few long minutes were the hums of satisfaction coming from Chris, and with each one of them Zach’s pleased smile grew wider. Zach worked on all of Chris’ muscles, tracing his hands up and down Chris’ upper back and shoulders, leaving nothing untouched and relieving all of what was left of the tension that emanated from Chris the previous night. Chris was about to let his head fall back again to thank the other one when he felt Zachary’s hands on his neck, fingers tracing small circles on his skin. 

“ _Cogito_.” Zach said all of a sudden, making Chris forget whatever it was he wanted to say. 

“ _Expone_.” Christopher closed his eyes and felt the little shivers that ran down his body when Zach pressed some sensitive points on his neck. 

“Is it possible to be in love with a person and not realise it?” 

“What?” There was a moment of silence and Chris turned his confused head to face Zach again when he felt the hands slip from his shoulders to rest on the couch by each side of his head, and it was like he was looking at him through someone else’s eyes. With the sunlight bathing his face and him standing so close, Chris could capture every nuance of brown in his irises and every detail of his skin, it was like looking through a magnifying glass at something he had never watched closely before. 

“Maybe Jonathan was right about me.” That was also followed by a moment of silence and tension between the two of them and there was something else there, something Chris couldn’t quite put his fingers on but it was something that made them experience for the first time throughout their friendship a moment so intense that it was almost awkward. 

“Well, then... Was he?" Christopher had no idea where the hell that came from, but he knew he liked being curiously anxious to hear the answer. "Are you?” 

It felt like hours of silence and staring at each other. 

“ _Perdite_.” 

Chris was never much of a thinker in situations like this, he always just did whatever felt right, which, right then, was to get a hold of Zachary and bring their lips together. It was an entirely different feeling than the one he had felt with all of the ex-girlfriends in his background, it was much purer than the licentious feeling that had always driven him towards women, and it was soothing, quite like an anxiolytic. Only this didn’t dope him, each motion of Zach’s lips against his own wakened him instead and realisation hit him hard with the fact that he, too, was probably desperately in love with Zachary. When they broke apart both were smiling, and Zach felt as though if Chris were to let go of his neck he would helplessly fluctuate towards the sky. 

“Seriously? Our first kiss is a spiderman kiss? This is so lame.” 

“Shut up, you schemed this.” 

“I did. Minus the spiderman part. You’re on your own with that.” 

“Yeah, right.”


End file.
